


After the fight

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fill in Scene, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, POTTER FAMILY FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: Harry says those words and Albus just wants to run and keep running. He’s never been so badly hurt before and it feels like hell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I wrote on Wednesday. It was either this or Voldy timeline stuff and I decided this was more interesting/painful. It’s a bit angsty. But it does include a couple of hugs so it isn’t all completely awful. 
> 
> Beta'd by brief_and_dreamy

Albus doesn't want the blanket anywhere near him anymore. He hurls it as hard as he can at the bed. Through the blur of tears he sees it hit the love potion which spills everywhere. Good. 

His dad is shouting for him to come back, keeps snatching at his shoulders, trying to haul him back, like maybe a hug will undo all this, will rewrite time, put those words back in his mouth. But the world doesn't work that way. There are some things that can never be undone. 

He puts his head down and runs. His feet clatter on the stairs. On the first floor landing James comes from nowhere and tries to catch him, laughing, apparently oblivious to anything that just happened. 

"Albus! Lily told me Uncle Ron got you a-"

"Get off me." His voice breaks, just as full of tears as his eyes. He shoves James hard away.

"Ooo why are you in such a-" He tries to grab Albus from behind but Albus throws him off and sprints away toward the only bit of freedom he can think of. The front door. A way out of this house, out of this hell. 

He takes the stairs three at a time. Wearing only socks his feet keep skidding on the carpet and he nearly loses his balance. For a sickening moment he clutches at the banister, trying not to fall. It just makes him feel more sick and humiliated and stupid. He twists both his ankles too, and they ache as he pushes himself forward and keeps running.

His mum must have heard all the shouting and running because she's standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up. He doesn't look at her. Keeps his head bowed. Keeps going. Rushes for the front door and escape.

"Albus." She steps in front of him and blocks him. "Where are you going? It's late. You can't-"

"Let me go," he says desperately. He's skidded to a stop on the tiled floor, just inches from her. Fists balled up tight. Tears are seeping down his cheeks and he swipes them away on the back of his sleeve. "Please." It comes out as a sob. He can hear his dad's footsteps on the stairs behind him and he needs to get away. 

"It's the middle of the night," she says, voice gentle in a way that makes Albus's heart feel like it's about to tear itself apart. "I can't let you go out." She takes a step toward him and he flinches away. Does she wish it too? That he weren't her son? Every single fibre of his being hopes not. She takes another step forward and puts a hand on his arm, and it's all he can do not to collapse against her and fall apart. "It's-"

"Albus." His mum's words are cut off by his dad as he clatters down the stairs. He sounds desperate and upset, but it isn't Albus's fault he said what he said. He can't appeal for understanding when those were his words, coming from a place that wishes Albus had never existed. 

Albus backs away from his mum and scrambles toward the kitchen. "I'm going downstairs," he tells her, voice trembling and small, on the verge of completely losing it. "Don't let him- I don't want to- please." He practically falls over himself as he stumbles away. Her shadow falls across his back as she places herself between him and Harry, and he loves her so much in that moment he feels he might burst. 

He descends the stairs away from the kitchen and down into the darkness of the basement. He'd light it up but his wand is somewhere upstairs, and even if he had it he wouldn't want to use it. Magic is just another reminder of what a useless disappointment he is. 

In the very back corner of the room there's a pile of blankets. He feels his way across to them and sinks down with his back to the wall. Alone in the dark he finally buries his face in his hands and lets his tears overwhelm him. 

Words echo round and round in his head. His own words. His dad's words. Angry and broken and awful.

_"You know what? I am done with being made responsible for your unhappiness. At least you've got a dad. Because I didn't, okay?"_

_"And you think that was unlucky? I don't."_

_"You wish me dead?"_

_"No I just wish you weren't my dad."_

_"Well, there are times I wish you weren't my son."_

He'd almost half been expecting it, but it had still shattered his heart when he'd heard it. There had been no fight left after that, just desolation. He'd wanted his dad, not Harry Potter, and he'd wanted something, anything, some sign of him really caring. Not that. Whatever that was. 

Just a hug would have been fine. And a proper gift, something he could use and enjoy. Not some stupid bit of his dad's stupid past. Another piece of his dad's pain and heroism. Another sign that he'll never be good enough.

He screws his hands up and digs them in against his eyes where the tears are flowing freely. Hot and heavy, dribbling down his cheeks and off the end of his nose. He can feel them splattering on his trousers and he starts scrubbing them away with his fingers. It's utterly futile because he can't stop crying. Every time he thinks of those words and his dad's face, livid and right up close to his, it just feels worse. Every echo is a fresh fracture cracking across his heart, a new point of piercing pain. 

He draws in deep breaths. Tries to think about the good things. His mum is somewhere upstairs, protecting him. She cares. He knows she does. And tomorrow he can get out of here. He can go back to school, which in itself is a thought almost as awful as the idea of saying here, but at least Scorpius is there. Out of everything, Scorpius is the biggest comfort.

Scorpius... He squeezes his eyes tight shut and tries to think about his best friend. His bright smile and flailing hands and stupid, ridiculous little dances and phrases and songs. How even in the worst moments he never seems to back down, just keeps being fiercely and confidently himself. Always enthusiastic and passionate and chirpy. Always full of useless facts about the past. Always a solid and dependable anchor of happiness in Albus's life. 

He's thinking about the last evening of third year, when Scorpius had eaten far too many sweets and ended up bouncing on Albus's bed until he was too exhausted to stand, when the door to the basement opens and light spills down into the room. Albus presses himself against the wall and squints up to see his mum there. He relaxes, and sets about trying to mop his face on his sleeve. She doesn't need to know he was crying. 

The door shuts, plunging them both into blackness for a moment before Ginny waves her wand and a silvery pinprick appears, radiating a soft glow that bathes the room. She walks silently across and sits down on the pile of blankets beside Albus. 

"I heard," she says after a moment. "Not all of it but... enough." 

Albus bows his head. His mum sighs and and reaches out, sliding an arm round his shoulders. He curls up and melts against her side. 

"H-he said he-"

"I know." 

"He wishes I weren't-"

His mum's fingers brush through his hair and she kisses the top of his head. "He didn't mean it. Albus, I know it sounded awful and I know it's hurt you, of course it has, but I can't believe he meant it." 

Albus sniffs and wipes away another couple of tears. "How do you know?" His voice cracks and he gives another little sob. If he'd expected to be wrung dry by now he was wrong. 

"Because I know your dad. Sometimes in the heat of the moment he can say or do things he regrets. But his heart is in the right place, and I  _know_ he loves you."

"But he said-" 

His mum releases him, pushing him back to arms length so she can look at him. "I can't tell you what he meant. I can't apologise for him, and I won't, but I think he made a mistake-" 

"You think?" Albus mutters, looking away. 

"A big mistake," Ginny continues firmly. "And I know he already regrets it. He will say sorry. I think he really is trying, and I hope eventually you'll be able to give him a second chance."

Albus looks at her, vision still a bit blurred and stinging. "I-I just wanted to know that he cared? And he doesn't. Mum, he said he wished... He wished I wasn't his son." He breaks again, lip trembling, more tears leaking out, and he buries his face in his hands. 

"Oh Albus," Ginny says quietly. "Come here." He lets her gather him in, warm hands on his shoulders, arms enfolding him, rocking him as he curls in close. "We love you. I love you. We  _both_ love you. Whatever anyone says you're a brilliant son and I am very glad I have you. I hope you know that." 

Albus wants to say something. He tries. Nothing comes out when he opens his mouth so he swallows hard and tries again. "You think?" 

"Yes," Ginny says fiercely, "I do. And I'm going to miss you, while you're at school. You'll have to come back and visit. And write often." 

Albus nods silently. 

His mum looks at him, brown eyes deep with concern. "It will be okay. Albus, it will. I need you to know that. You will sort this out together, the two of you. You're both strong enough." 

_Are we?_  Albus wonders. Right now he doesn't feel strong enough to do anything. He certainly never wants to see his dad's face ever again. Even Christmas will be too soon. 

"Okay," he says. "I-I... Yes." He starts wiping his eyes with his fingers again. This time his mum summons a tissue out of thin air and hands it to him. "Thanks," he mumbles. 

They sit there, side by side on the floor in the basement. Overhead the house is silent. Maybe everyone else has gone to bed. It feels easier in the quiet and the faint silver glow of the wand-light, with just his mum and her love for company. It feels like maybe there's a chance those words might stop haunting him. Like maybe he might sleep tonight, might go to school tomorrow feeling a little more normal, not like the whole world is crashing down around his ears. 

"Mum?" He says finally.

"Albus," she says, giving him a warm smile. 

He almost smiles back, just a small twitch at the edge of his lips, because he can't help himself even though he still feels a bit bleak and awful. "I-I think I'd like to be alone for a bit. If that's okay. I'm sure you have things to do anyway. It's a busy night." 

Ginny surveys him. "Will you be alright?" 

He nods. "Yeah." 

"Okay." She gives him one final squeeze, one last long, concerned look, then she gets up. "If you need me-" 

"I know." 

He hugs his knees to his chest and watches her walk away. The light fades and he's enveloped in darkness again. The door into the kitchen bangs with a finality, shutting him away. Shutting him out. 

If he'd thought he'd be okay without her he was wrong. As soon as she's gone the echoes are back.  _"Well there are times when I wish you weren't my son."_  Over and over, round and round, until his head is aching and his ears are pounding and there really aren't anymore tears left. His chest feels almost too tight to breathe and he's shaking and exhausted, and he wants his mum back but it's late now. She's probably sleeping. It was late when the fight happened and he feels as though he's been down here for hours. Everyone must be asleep. Maybe it's safe to go upstairs now... 

The idea of a warm bed and some rest is incredibly appealing. It would be an escape from the pain in his head and the awful, thick tears still clogging him up. He can't go to his room though. The blanket- He's never going near it again, and there's love potion everywhere, and besides he'd never sleep in that room now anyway. Not with those memories. There's only really one option and he hasn't done it in a while because it's stupid and childish, but he just wants to sleep.

He gets to his feet, inches his way across the basement, pauses at the top of the stairs and presses his ear to the door. Silence. When he steps into the kitchen everything is dark and still. The only person who might be awake still at this time is James, but there are no footsteps or music or anything coming from upstairs so he must be sleeping too. 

As quietly as he can Albus pads across the kitchen and up to the first floor. He tiptoes down the landing, pausing whenever the floorboards creak. Lily's room is right at one end, the door slightly ajar because she hates having it closed while she's sleeping. 

A silvery stream of moonlight falls from her window, a bright streak across the purple rug and the strange butterfly decorations stuck to her wall which flutter their wings lazily in the semi-darkness. Albus pauses at the doorway for a moment, then he creeps across the room and crouches down next to her bed.

"Lily," he whispers. 

Her eyes fly open immediately. She's always been a light sleeper. "Albus. Are you okay?" 

He nods, a blatant lie. "Yeah. I just- Do you think I could-" 

She wriggles sideways, making room before he can even ask properly, lifting the blankets up then wrapping them over him when he crawls in beside her. "I heard," she says. 

Albus lies on his back and looks up at the dark ceiling overhead. "I'm okay," he mumbles. 

"Okay," she says in a very small voice. For a moment she's still enough that Albus wonders if she's already asleep, but then she shifts and he feels a small, gentle arm wrap around him. He rolls toward her and buries his face in her hair, fragile composure fracturing again like glass. She pats his side while he sobs, dry and silent, and at some point, wrapped in grey, moonlit half darkness and his sister's arms, he finally falls into an uneasy sleep that doesn't feel like rest or escape at all. 


End file.
